The Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
by Fred Weasley1
Summary: My best work yet! Don't worry, it's censored! I would like to acknowledge Reilyn Ratliffe, Kyree, Arigirl, HyperHermione, and loldudeo for inspiring me to write this lovely piece of masterpiece! Read and Like! Hey, everybuddi, the new chapter is up alread
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Blahbahblah… the usual little speechy thingy… they all belong to JK…

Disclaimer: Blabablabla… the usual little speechy thingy… they all belong to JK… you know that already though…

A.N. It is me again! May I present my latest masterpiece! In my evil, twisted opinion, this is my best story I've ever written! It actually has a plot, and a pretty good one at that! Pleez read and like!

"What are you two planning this time?" asked Mrs. Weasley suspiciously to Fred and George, who were whispering fervishly to one another over the breakfast table.

"Nothing, mum!" said George, shoving a spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

"Then it's not about the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I expect?" she questioned skeptically.

"Oh, mum, of course not!" piped up Fred, enthusiastically waving the idea away with his hand. "Nothing of the sort. In fact, we were just discussing ways how we could become more like Percy." Fred made his hands into glasses and put them over his face. He stood up in his chair and put on a smug look. "How dare you incompetent children make fun of my obsession – I mean, occupation! Why, if my skull wasn't as thick as the new cauldron bottoms –" at this, George snorted porridge all over the table.

"Fred, I would be pleased if you would not make fun of Percy. He's very ambitious, and all you and George are is bent on making trouble," said Mrs. Weasley curtly. "George, will you please clean that up?"

"Yes, mum," said George, but he got up from the table instead. Come on Fred, let's go pack our trunks."

"Righto," said Fred, and he jumped up from the table and dashed up the stairs with George.

"I thought your trunks were already packed!" hollered Mrs. Weasley.

"They were," shouted George, "but Ron and Ginny got into mine and chewed on everything! I have to fix it!"

"Yeah," yelled Fred, "Percy and… er… and Harry got into mine!"

"You two know that's a lie!" shouted Mrs. Weasley up at them, but the twins were already closed up in their bedroom.

"Okay," said George, shutting and locking the door behind them. "Have we got everything?"

"Everything on the list, it looks like," said Fred, reading off of a piece of parchment, "The video camera, the guitars, the broomsticks… Yup, looks like we're all set!"

"Alright!" said George, and he did a shrinking charm on one of the guitar cases and stuffed it into his trunk with all his school stuff. Fred shrunk the other guitar case and packed it into his trunk. They didn't have to shrink the video camera, it was foldable. 

"Nifty!" remarked Fred as he folded the camera to the size of the palm of his hand.

George slammed and latched his trunk. "We'd better hurry or we'll make everybody late for the train!" Fred and George flung open the bedroom door and bounded out onto the stairs. But before they knew what had happened, they were sprawling on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

"Oy! What happened?" said the voice of Ron from somewhere underneath George's trunk.

"Where are my glasses?" said Harry, who was apparently on top of Fred. "Ginny, let go of my leg!"

"Oh, sorry," said Ginny, "I thought you were Ron!"

"Riiiiiiiiiight," said Ron.

"Did you two ambush us on purpose?" said Hermoine's voice, which was so muffled nobody could tell where it was coming from.

"No," said Fred.

"We didn't ambush you!" said George, as though the whole idea of it was absurd. "We were trying to save you from Percy! We thought we heard him coming, and his head has gotten so big lately that we thought he might crush you!"

"That hasn't been helped," complained Hermione from somewhere underneath all of them.

"What are you infudels doing?!" said Percy, who had come out of his room and was apparently trying to come down the stairs.

"Aagh!" shouted Fred, "There he is! Run for your lives, dear friends, I'll hold him off!" Fred grabbed a fake wand from his trunk, which turned immediately into a rubber chicken, and began waving it in Percy's face. "Back, you fiend!"

"I don't have time for childish incompetence," scoffed Percy, and he strutted back up to his room.

Fred bowed. "Thank you, thank you, it was nothing! Whenever you need an evil Percy warded off, just call on Sir Fred of Weasley!"

"Run along to the cars, kids," said Mrs. Weasley, who had come up the stairs to find them. Everyone untangled themselves and headed off down the stairs. Then she spotted Fred and George. "It only took you that long to fix your trunks?" she said, raising her eyebrows suspiciously.

"No, actually," said George, "it wasn't Ginny and Ron who got into my trunk, it was just Pig! What do you know!" he marveled, trying to sound amused. Mrs. Weasley looked at Fred.

"Oh, Harry didn't get into my trunk either, it was… er… it was the ghoul in the attic! And he didn't do much damage either – "

"Thanks to Sir George of Weasley!" interrupted George.

"But doesn't the ghoul in the attic live in the attic, not in your room?" said Mrs. Weasley, and her eyebrows raised even more.

"Not today, er, bye mum!" they both said simultaneously and dashed down the stairs after the others.

A.N. Sooo, was it my best yet? Whaddaya think? I can't just go by my evil, twisted opinion. I will post the next chapter if you like. I've already typed the whole thing, it's just too long to post all at the same time. It gets really good and is full of surprises. I like it when you do humor reviews, so could you pleeez? Thanku! 


	2. Choclatey rhymingness...

After the long trip on the Hogwarts Express, and the welcoming feast in the great hall, and almost everyone was asleep, Fred and George conversed quietly in the seventh year boy's dormitory

After the long trip on the Hogwarts Express, and the welcoming feast in the great hall, and almost everyone was asleep, Fred and George conversed quietly in the seventh year boy's dormitory.

"Go to sleep! If we want to make that music video, we have to have gotten enough sleep!"

"But I've set my alarm clock –"

"That doesn't make any difference if you haven't gotten any sleep!"

"Right. I guess we'd better, then," yawned Fred, who supposedly wasn't tired at all.

"Good night," sighed George.

It barely felt like the twins had closed their eyes when Fred's alarm clock went off.

"Noooo!" hissed George, "Turn it off, it'll wake the whole tower!"

"Agh!" Fred groped for it and accidentally knocked it off his bedside table. It skidded across the floor and stopped under Lee Jordan's bed. Both the twins scrambled for it at the same time, almost tipping Lee's bed over. Lee gave a shout.

"Whoops, sorry about that, Lee!" said George, getting to his feet , grabbing his trunk and heading toward the stairs. "You can just go back to sleep now!" Fred had turned off (more like blown up) the alarm clock and was also making his way toward the door. 

"Thought we'd get some early morning Quidditch practice in, first day, you know? See ya!" Fred and George dashed out into the common room and were about to go out of the portrait hole when Fred realized something. "We need Ron!"

"Well of course we _need_ Ron, he's our brother," said George obliviously, "let's go."

"No, we need an electric guitarist! We can't play music with just base guitars!"

George slapped his forehead. "Oy, how could we be so thick?"

"I'll go get him," said Fred, already heading back to the dorm rooms.

"Ron, wake up. Wake up, you idiot! Ron! Heloooo – "

"George, stoppit!" said Ron groggily. "I'm tryinta sleep…"

"Not anymore, sunshine!" said Fred, "and by the way, my name is Fred."

"Fred, Fred…" said Ron as Fred pulled him out of bed and put a red sweater over his head.

"Hey!" said Ron, suddenly wide awake and excited about something. 

"What?" said Fred. "You were sleeping like dead and now you have bed head?"

"No!" exclaimed Ron ecstatically. "That rhymes!"

"Yeah, let's all sit up in your dorm and make rhymes!" said Fred sarcastically. "I didn't mean to say that, the author made me do it!"

"Isn't the author's name Fred, too?"

"Yes," said Fred, very irritated. "But that isn't the point. Let's go!"

They took their supplies and the three redheads fled and sped down the stairs like a sled.

"Hey!" said Ron angrily.

"What?" said the irritated Fred and George.

" 'Stairs' doesn't rhyme with 'fled' and 'sped'!"

"Like anybody cares but you and Lambchop," said George, who began to gorge himself on porridge and didn't forge.

"Hey, now you're rhyming, George!" Ron looked extremely entertained.

"Fred made me do it!" shouted George accusingly.

"Hey, wait," said Fred, we can put our uncontrollable rhyming to good use. We can use it in our music vid, since we don't know what song to sing!"

"Yeah…" said George and Ron.

"By the way, where'd you get the porridge, George?" Fred said.

"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't really know!" He chucked the porridge out the window.

"And where'd that window come from?"

"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't really know!" He did something that was supposed to be chucking the window out the window.

"And where'd Ron come from?"

"Come to think of it," said George evilly, grabbing Ron and getting ready to chuck him out the window, "I don't really –" But then Fred stopped him.

"Stop, I was just joking!"

"Things are really screwy when people get up too early in the morning."

The sky above the empty Quidditch field was a beautiful shade of orange-gold. The thin, whispy yellow clouds rippled in the reflected sunlight. The dew on the grass sparkled silver against the golden sky.

"How can clouds ripple?" asked George.

"Oh, shut up," said Fred, the author, walking out onto the field. "I'm trying to create _perceptive imagery_. Sheesh, don't you incompetent twerps ever read Edgar Allan Poe?"

"You read Edgar Allan Poe?" said Fred and George, and they both burst into fits of laughter.

"It's for an assignment at school!" argued Fred, (the author), going red in the face. "And I _like_ perceptive imagery!" At that, he stomped off the field, grumbling. "Criminey, people these days… When did the subject of Edgar Allan Poe become so frickin' funny? Sheesh!"

"Okay," said George, "back to the facts." He and Fred began to set up speakers, lights, and various pieces of equipment all over the field. When they were done, they had turned it into what looked like an enormous movie setup.

"Lights," said Ron.

"Camera," said George.

"Action!" said Fred.

A.N. The next chapter gets kind of insane, because I was on a chocolate high while I was writing it, so Reilyn should love it! Thanks for the flames, now I can roast marshmallows!


	3. The climax and epilogue

"Children, please, calm down

"Children, please, calm down!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "Dumbledore will sort this out!"

Fred, George, and Ron had all been turned into tiny purple snails. The Ronsnail was being squished under its electric guitar. Apparently, trying to use magic and electric equipment at the same time hadn't worked out very well. The Fredsnail was twitching on the grass; little yellow bolts of electricity were occasionally buzzing from his shell. The Georgesnail had crashed on his broomstick and was sliming around in circles on the grass, his snaily little eyes unfocused.

As Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey gathered up the three snails, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the other students watched from behind Professor McGonagall.

"Ron," said Hermione, looking at him and quizzically raising an eyebrow, "aren't you supposed to be a snail?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah!" he said, and in a purple poof of smoke, he turned back into the Ronsnail and slithered out onto the field.

"_CUT!_" shouted Fred (the author), dashing out onto the field. "I said _cut_, Colin, that means turn off the fricky camera!"

Colin didn't turn it off.

"You stupid Aussies!" yelled Fred, maniacally waving his arms. 

"Er, we're Brits," said Neville. 

"I don't give a frick if you're Canadians! This whole thing was perfect until Ron screwed up! Okay, none of this ever happened, right? Okay. Roll the film!"

"Bwahahahagh… I'm a Canadian in disguise!" shrieked Martha Stewart, leaping from the top of one of the 50 foot goal posts and landing in front of Hermione. Hermione screamed and grabbed Harry.

"Whoa, in this case, I give a *@#`$%^&!+~*!!!" shouted Fred the author/director, diving under one of the speakers for cover. "This is getting way too weird!" he said. "Let's take this scene over again!"

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A.N. I've decided not to show the next scene, because it was even worse than the last. As you might have already noticed, I can't control my own writing, so it can get dangerous at times. Ya… I kind of scared myself when Martha Stewart came leaping onto the field. If you insane people out there (I'm insane, too) want me to post this scene sometime, I need at least one request for me to do so. If I get one, I will acknowledge that requestful person if and when I ever post this scene. Thank you for your time. (snickers evilly)

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"Ha!" said Ron. 

"Shut up!" said Hermione, "I'm trying to watch this!"

The Gryffindors were gathered in the common room watching Fred, George, and Ron's music video on the muggle device called a TV. Fred, George, and Ron had all been restored to normal, except for the fact that they still had purple hair with bright yellow streaks through it.

"See?" said Ron, that's me flippin' the switch, and there's George –"

"Shut your face up!" snapped Hermione.

"I don't have to if I don't want –"

"Close your ~*^#+ face!"

"Sheesh, talk about PMSing…"

"I may be PMSing Ron, but you're ASSing!"

"Excuse me," said Professor McGonagall tartly as she entered the portrait hole. "Who here is not censored?"

"Sorry Professor," said Hermione, hanging her head.

"You could be heard all the way down in the Great hall!" scolded Professor McGonagall. "You're giving people a bad idea of Friggindor – I mean, Gryffindor House!"

A.N. Augh! I can't end it right! Augh augh augh! *bangs head against keyboard* AUGH! That hurt! Sorry to dissapoint you, the unpostable chapter is a lot funnier. If you want, just for the sake of insanity, I will post it. I warn you, though, it consists 100% of freakishly random insanity. If ya hate me, FLAME ME!!! Gahahahahahahagh! *dashes off into the forest of no return* 


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